In His Stead
by NarusseRussandol
Summary: Faramir goes to Rivendell instead of Boromir, and the fate of the Fellowship is changed. Rated T for violence.
1. For His Sake

**Summary: Faramir goes to Rivendell instead of Boromir, and the fates of many are changed.**

**Rating information: Rated T for violence, just in case.**

**Author' s note: I do not own Middle Earth or it's characters. I (sadly) do not own Faramir, so he may be portrayed a bit incorrectly. Feel free to tell me if he is!**

And now, Read, enjoy, and review!

Prologue

The standard of Gondor flew from the tower, furling and unfurling solemnly in the wind. Faramir stood beside his older brother Boromir, who was mounted on a horse, preparing to leave for Rivendell, to seek council from Lord Elrond because of a dream that Faramir had had. He could remember the words as clearly as if they had been spoken that moment.

_Seek for the sword that was broken; in Imladris it dwells,_

_There shall be councils taken stronger than Morgul spells._

_There shall be shown a token that doom is near at hand_

_For Isildur's bane shall waken, and the Halfling forth shall stand._

Since their father, Lord Denethor, had insisted that Boromir go instead of him, for he too had had the dream, and Boromir had seconded his decision, Faramir had felt a sense of evil foreboding. He had dreamt each night the same dream. While he sat by the Great River Anduin, a boat floated by glowing with a ghostly light, and he found Boromir's cloven horn in the reeds. He blinked as the memory of the vision returned.

Boromir noticed his brother's nervous expression. "What troubles you, Faramir?" he asked. Faramir looked up at Boromir, and, without warning, another vision appeared before his eyes. Boromir dying, pierced by many black arrows, Alone in the Amon Hen. He shook his head violently. No, he could not let Boromir go.

There was but one thing he could do. How he could even think of this, Faramir did not know. But it had to be done. He had to save his brother's life. His eyes widened when he realized that he must hurt his older brother. _No! _

But the inner voice inside him calmly told him that it was for the good of Boromir, and for Gondor. If Faramir went to Rivendell instead, he would die, he, the unwanted son of Denethor, and Boromir, his father's pride and joy, would live.

"Faramir?" asked Boromir, the worried look on his face growing more noticeable.

Faramir looked into his eyes with a firm look, but his lower lip trembled. "I am sorry, Boromir," he said in a quavering voice, "Forgive me."

Boromir only had a few seconds to be puzzled, for Faramir pulled him off of the horse onto the ground, knocking him unconscious. The few people standing nearby gasped and stared as Faramir leapt onto the horse and spurred him forward into a gallop, leaving Minas Tirith.

_When Father learns what I have done, I shall be known as an enemy of the kingdom. I must never return here; it would be my death._

He did not look back. He did not wish to see Boromir lying prone on the ground, blood seeping from beneath his head. In any other circumstances, Faramir could not have done that to his brother. Boromir was stronger than he, and would easily overpower him. But Faramir had taken advantage, and caught him off guard.

_Boromir would never think I would do such a thing as that,_ he thought bitterly. _He trusted me. _

A pang of guilt shot through him. He had betrayed that trust.

0o0o0o0

UPDATED:7/7/2014: One canonical error addressed, a bit of detail added.

Novaer,

Lúthien


	2. The Sword that was Broken

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, its characters, and lands, are the property of Tolkien Estates and New Line Cinemas. This story was written for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of others, not for profit._

Chapter One

The Sword that was Broken

Exhausted from his long journey, Faramir looked down into the valley of Imladris. A place of such beauty and peace he had not seen in his life. "Forward, Feanor," he commanded the horse, giving him a slight nudge.

Feanor did not need any more urging. The silvery black horse trotted eagerly into the valley, his head held high, if his rider's was not. His hooves clattered on the cobbled paths, and stopped when Faramir pulled gently on the reins.

A golden-haired elf stepped up to meet him. "_Mae govannen,_" He greeted, giving Faramir a respectful bow. "I am Glorfindel, chief protector of Imladris. What brings you to our valley?"

Faramir dismounted and bowed in the manner of Gondor, with his right hand brought to his left shoulder. "I am Faramir, son of Denethor, of Gondor, Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien," he introduced himself hesitantly, for, though he was of high placing in Gondor, as a ranger he had few formal introductions to perform. "I come to seek counsel from Lord Elrond."

Glorfindel nodded, "You have come at the right time. Lord Elrond will be holding a council within the week. It concerns all of the Free Peoples, and a man such as you would be a welcome member of the council," he said.

Faramir smiled. "I thank you, Lord Glorfindel," he said in the same formal tone as before, for this elf was clearly one of the great elf-lords. "But I must fulfill my mission and return to Minas Tirith, to bring tidings to my father, the Lord Steward."

"Very well then, Faramir of Gondor," Glorfindel replied, "Lord Elrond will speak to you when he finds the time to do so. Now, would you be so good as to allow us to see to your horse?" He gave Feanor a look over; the horse was tired and his coat tangled with mud and burrs. "You have had a long journey, Lord Faramir. You look in nearly the same state. And the wound in your shoulder should be tended to," he motioned to a slight sword wound that Faramir had received in a skirmish with a few orcs along the way.

The wound was small, but it was rapidly becoming infected. And, to say the truth, Faramir was not sorry to stay in Rivendell. Somehow, he would have to get the news of Lord Elrond's counsel to his father, but he would not bring it himself. For what he had done to get it, he would be thrown into the dungeons at least, perhaps worse. His father was not the most easy-tempered man in Gondor, especially toward his younger son.

"I would be quite grateful to stay a little while," Faramir said, relieved, then he thought that perhaps he had let off his ruse too abruptly. He hoped that Glorfindel had not noticed, but, as all elves were, the Balrog-slayer was keen at reading tension and ruses in others.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Very well. We will have a room prepared for you."

Faramir thanked him, then he turned to wander the city for a while, gazing about at Rivendell, awestruck.

Without really meaning to, his feet merely choosing their own path, he found himself standing before the shards of Narsil. "The sword that was broken," he murmured in awe, he touched the blade gently with a finger, and looked in surprise when he saw that it was still sharp. "The sword of the king. Someday it will be reforged..."

He whirled, aware of another prescence in the room. In surprise, he saw that the man he saw standing behind him was not an elf, but a Man, with the typical dark hair, grey eyes, and stony face of Gondor.

Faramir bowed. "_Mae govannen_, kinsman," he introduced himself, "I am Faramir of Gondor." This man was not arrayed in fine apparel, but Faramir nonetheless saw that he had an air of nobility. He dropped to one knee.

The man did not say much, but he gave the Man of Gondor a thoughtful glance. "Stand," he said, "Do not bow before me." He offered his hand to the young man to shake in introduction,"I am Aragorn son of Arathorn of the Dunedain."

Faramir stood, his eyebrows raised. _Dunedain_? he thought, _They are Numenoreans. The descendants of Isildur. I have met a few, but none that have inspired such humility as Aragorn. Why may that be?_

Before any further conversation could be held, Faramir could hear a skirt rustle on the floor behind them, and Aragorn left. "I trust we shall meet again," he said in parting.

Faramir too took a last look at the Sword that was Broken, and went out to find a healer for his shoulder wound.

After he had been attended to, Faramir met Elrond when going out of doors again. "My lord," he bowed, "I am honored to meet you at last."

Elrond turned his gaze on the man, and Faramir could not tell what emotion he felt, the elf lord's gaze was so piercing. "You must be Faramir of Gondor," he replied, at last, "Glorfindel said that you come to seek my counsel?"

Faramir nodded. "Yes, my lord," he began, "I... I had a strange dream. A vision, perhaps."

Elrond looked thoughtful. "Well, you may tell me more at the council in two days. You are coming, correct?" He asked.

Faramir acknowledged him. "I will do whatever my lord wishes."

Elrond dismissed him, and they went their seperate ways. Faramir was intmidated by the elf lord, perhaps because he was one of the Eldar. But Lord Elrond seemed kind enough, to allow one of an inferior race to stay in his house, eat his food, and share counsel. Faramir felt a deep reverence for Elrond.

0o0o0o0

"No," instructed the elf, "You needn't swing with so much power. That may only prove to throw you off balance. Watch." The sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, were showing Faramir some sword-fighting.

Faramir was impressed by their professionalism. He was glad that he would not meet them in battle. He held in his hand the elven blade, Berion, which had been lent to him by the twins for their swordplay. It was much lighter and easier to maneuver than the heavy Gondorian swords he was used to. Though with much practice he had improved, he was yet no match for his older brother, let alone the elves.

He realized that Elladan and Elrohir had finished their short engagement.

Elrohir stepped forward. "Challenge me," he instructed. Elladan laughed and ran off, coming back with two others, Glorfindel and Erestor.

"We will be late to the council," Glorfindel said crossly.

"No we won't," Elladan replied, "Elrohir will win in a moment."

The three others stood in a semi-circle to watch. Faramir looked up at them for a moment, before stepping to meet Elrohir. The elf swung the blade and it clashed against Faramir's, sending off a shower of sparks. Faramir tried a cutting move, taking care to to injure his healing shoulder. Elrohir instantly blocked him, and attacked him himself. Faramir found it hard to bring the sword to meet him each time.

Then he had an idea. He dropped to the ground and swung his blade to meet Elrohir's shins. It had the desired result. The elf tripped and fell, and Faramir used his fall to stand and put his sword to Elrohir's throat.

Glorfindel, Erestor, and Elladan watched. "You have trained very well," Glorfindel remarked, "Good. You should need it."

Faramir, grinning, let Elrohir up, who brushed dirt off himself, not exactly looking happy. "I let you win," he said, glaring at Faramir.

Faramir chuckled, but when he heard Glorfindel's remark, he was puzzled. The elf lord offered no explanation, though. "Thank you, Lord Glorfindel," Faramir bowed.

Glorfindel shook his head. "Simply Glorfindel, Lord Faramir," he replied, "I believe we don't need these formalities anymore."

Faramir gave him a smile. "Thank you, Glorfindel. And the same; just call me Faramir," he replied, relieved that he did not need to keep up the formalities. It was a practice he always used in Gondor, though he destested it. But it was a necessity. His father had drilled formality into him relentlessly in his childhood years.

Just then the council bell rang, and he remembered that the formalities would have to continue for a few more hours.

**0o0o0o0**

_UPDATED: 7/7/2014: Canonical and name changes made, detail added._

_This should be better now. Next chapter, I am going to change a lot of things in it. _

_Novaer,_

_Lúthien_


	3. Stronger than Morgul Spells

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, its characters, and lands, are the property of Tolkien Estates and New Line Cinemas. This story was written for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of others, not for profit._

Chapter Two

Stronger than Morgul Spells

Faramir took his seat at the council nervously. There was Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, and the twins. There were two elderly men that he did not recognize. There was the ranger, Aragorn, and an elf clad in green and brown_, _who seemed different than the elves he had seen so far.

He found himself seated between the elves and dwarves, of whom there were two, an elder and a younger, which looked quite alike. Faramir felt the eyes of the council on him, and he was a bit nervous. He had come to seek counsel from Elrond, not from all of Middle-Earth.

Then something caught his eye. Across from him, there was two very small people, only about half his size. _Halflings_, he mused, interested. The dream was already coming true. He had come to Imladris and found the sword that was broken. This must be the council 'stronger than Morgul spells.' And now the halfling. The dream was a vision, he was sure. But what about Isildur's Bane?

His heart felt lighter when he saw his mentor, Mithrandir, among the council. He tried to catch the wizard's eye, but this was obviously too serious a time for greetings.

Elrond began the council. He introduced each member in turn. When he came to Aragorn, who was sitting near to him, Faramir listened intently. "This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the chieftain of the Dunedain."

Faramir's eyes grew wide. _Chieftain_ _of the Dunedain? That must mean..._ He shook his head_, No, that line has been broken. But Mithrandir always said that a king would return to Gondor..._ He looked at Aragorn with renewed reverance.

Elrond looked around the council. "The doom of Middle Earth is near. Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

Faramir's eyes followed the halfling as he stood, walked over to the pedestal, and placed a small golden ring on it. Then Frodo returned to his seat.

Faramir looked at the object closely. _The weapon of the Enemy,_ he thought, in awe. _It has been found. _He began to hear a voice in his head, though he could distinguish no words. He stood and began to speak, "I had a dream, twice. In it, it was dark, but there was yet some light, like before dawn. I heard a voice, far away, but clear, crying out of the west.

'_Seek for the sword that was broken. In Imladris is dwells,_

_There shall be councils taken, stronger than Morgul spells._

_There shall be shown a token that doom is near at hand,_

_For Isildur's bane shall waken, and the halfling forth shall stand.'_

"My brother had the same dream, and our father was going to send him here, but I insisted that I go instead..." he broke off, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck, he would not say how he had insisted. "This, then, is Isildur's Bane?"

Elrond nodded solemnly.

Faramir sat again, not knowing how to reply. His gaze was fixed on the Ring, so innocent looking as it sat on its pedestal. The whisperings in his ear grew louder. At last, he could distinguish them as words.

_Take it... take it to Gondor... _Faramir's eyes widened as he realized that it was the Ring that spoke to him. _Take it. _

_No,_ Faramir thought back. _I could not wield this weapon. I am not strong enough. _

_Take it to your father. You will be forgiven. He will praise you and honour you. You will save your people.  
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_I will not. I should only bring doom upon myself and upon Gondor._

Faramir tried his best not to listen, but the voice distracted him from the council, tempting him with the one thing he longed for most. His father's pride. _  
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At last, he managed to shut his ears against it, and to focus on the council again.

Gloin the dwarf then spoke of how messengers of the enemy had visited Dain, King under the Mountain, offering rings of power and other gifts and asking about a land called the Shire and people called hobbits. Dain had not given him an answer.

Then Mithrandir spoke up again and told of the treason of Isengard, and that Saruman the White had sided with the Black Land.

"There is but one thing we can do," Elrond said at last. Faramir felt a sense of impending doom descend on the council. "We must send someone to the Nameless Land, to cast this thing back into the fires from which it was forged; the only place it can be destroyed."

Silence. Then a fight broke forth between the elves and the dwarves, each saying that the other should not take it. Faramir wondered if he should offer himself, but he could feel the thing pulling him even now, and he knew he would not be able to withstand it, should he carry it for so far, so he kept silent.

Then the halfling, Frodo, stood. "I will take it!" he cried over the noise. Everything quieted down. "I will take the Ring to Mordor," Faramir saw fright in his eyes, "though I do not know the way."

The council grew silent. Mithrandir stood beside Frodo. "And I will be there to help you along the way."

Aragorn was the next to stand. "You have my sword," he bowed his head, standing beside Frodo as well.

Legolas too came, "And my bow."

He was followed by Gimli the dwarf. "And my axe!" said the dwarf, not to be outdone.

Faramir knew, then, what he must do. He stood and took a breath, going down on one knee to come eye level with Frodo. "You hold the fate of us all in your hands, little one," he said, sincerely, "You have my help too, as long as I may give it."

Then he stood with the others. Legolas raised an eyebrow at him, having seen the battle of will in Faramir's mind during the council. Faramir took the silent challenge. _Yes, I will keep my oath to my last breath, _he vowed.

Then a noise came from outside, and another halfling ran into the council. "Mr. Frodo isn't going anywhere without me," he said firmly. _Frodo's bodyguard, I presume_, Faramir thought.

Elrond gave a small smile. "No indeed," he said, "We cannot even keep you away from your master when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

A commotion was heard from nearby and Faramir saw two more, younger halflings tumble in. "Can we come too?" asked one.

Mithrandir raised an eyebrow. Then he looked at Elrond.

Elrond gave a single dip of his head. "Nine companions, against the Nine riders of the Enemy," he mused, "Very well, you shall be known as the Fellowship of the Ring."

Faramir almost did not hear the small hobbit, whom Mithrandir had quietly introduced as Pippin, say, "Great, where are we going?"

He was lost in his own thoughts. _Would Boromir have done the same, had he been here? Gone on a mission that would most likely end in his death?_ The answer was clear. He would have. That was how he had died in Faramir's vision.

_Now I come to die in his stead. _Faramir's mind was at once filled with doubt.

**0o0o0o0**

UPDATED: 7/7/2014: Changed Faramir's character to fit into Canon. Edited a few things. Legolas' behaviour change thanks to Rashka the Demon.

I think this is better now that it is revised.

Tell me what you think!

Novaer,

Lúthien


	4. Farewell to Imladris

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, its characters, and lands, are the property of Tolkien Estates and New Line Cinemas. This story was written for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of others, not for profit. 

Chapter Three

Farewell to Imladris

"Goodbye, Feanor," Faramir stroked the horse on the forehead. "You have served me well. You will be well cared for here. I will come back for you someday." _I hope, _he added to himself.

That night, his sleep had been disturbed by dreams of Boromir's death. He had told himself over and over that it wasn't going to happen that way, but the dreams still came. He was exhausted, for he had done much sword training the day before with Elladan, Elrohir, and Aragorn, and he had barely had any restful sleep.

_Perhaps I should not have joined the Fellowship_, he thought. Then he banished the thought from his mind. It was his destiny now. It would have been Boromir's otherwise. And Faramir was not afraid to die, especially if it meant Boromir would live.

Still he was nervous. It was hard to leave Feanor behind, though he knew the elves would care for the horse. Feanor had been Boromir's, and he hoped that his brother would forgive him. And Faramir's closest friends in Rivendell, Elladan and Elrohir, would not be coming. He would be alone.

_Those lucky hobbits_, he thought with envy, _They all know each other. I have to find a way to get along with a strange elf, the heir of Isildur, who may just see me as a challenge, and a dwarf. At least I have Mithrandir._

But even Mithrandir seemed a stranger now. He seemed more stern, even with Faramir, and concentrated his attention on the Ringbearer.

Faramir had learned little of the ways of the others during the many days between the council and now, when they would set out. He found himself missing his older brother. Perhaps they could have gone together. It would have been much easier. _No, Boromir must stay and guard the city. He is Gondor's finest soldier._

He shook his head sadly. "I know the Ring will try to bend me to its will. It already has tried. Because it knows that, of the Fellowship, I am the weakest," he told his horse. Feanor whickered in reply. "Perhaps I should tell them that I can't do this."

"Never go back on your word, Faramir, son of Denethor," A strong voice came. Faramir whirled to see Aragorn standing behind him, in the stable entrance.

Faramir bowed his head and began to speak. "I-"

"Is this what Gondor has become?" Aragorn interrupted, "a land of cowards?"

Faramir's eyes flashed angrily. "It is not for cowardliness that I would fall back on my word," he retorted, "It is for the sake of the others!"

Aragorn's expression was still cold. "Do you think that the Ring will not tempt the rest of us?" he asked, "You are not the only one. There are nine of us. We will all suffer the same."

Faramir shook his head, "I am an easy target," he sighed, "I am the son of the steward, and devoted to Gondor. It will try to make me think that the best thing to do would be to give it to my father." _And to show him that I am worth something._ He remembered the council, and his deep, inner longing that the Ring was already tempting him with. "It already has. It will make me think of how powerful I would become if I took it."

Aragorn's face softened a bit, " But you do not desire power, do you, Faramir of Gondor?" he asked, "You desire peace. You are different than your father."

Faramir raised his head. "I am?" he asked.

Aragorn nodded. "You will be able to withstand its pull," he said, "You are a noble man, Faramir, with Numenorean blood. I see something in you that is not in your father. More of a care for the people around you. And by that, you will realize that it is not your desire to have the Ring, but the Enemy's for you to take it."

Faramir dipped his head. "Thank you, my lord," he replied, grateful for the counsel. "I will remember this."

The smallest of smiles showed on the face of the Dunadan. "You would do well to. Now, come," he said, "It is time for setting off."

0o0o0

Aragorn's words still rang in Faramir's ears when they stood outside of Rivendell. Elrond, Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir, and Erestor, along with a few others, were there to send them off. Glorfindel stepped forward to Faramir, holding up the blade Berion, which Faramir had been lent.

"Take this," he said, "as a gift. To protect yourself, as you lost your own blade on the journey here." A slight twinkle came into the elf's eyes.

Faramir rolled his eyes, remembering how own sword had fallen from his saddle while he fled from orcs. Now it was left somewhere in Wilderland. "Thank you," he said, drawing the sword. It gleamed in the pale sunlight.

Glorfindel dipped his head.

Elrond put a hand on Faramir's shoulder. "Remember, you will always have friends," he told Faramir.

Faramir bowed. "Thank you, my lord." He watched as the elf lord spoke to the others, and he himself bid farewell to the sons of Elrond.

0o0o0

At last, all of the farewells were said. Gandalf led the way south, towards the Nameless Land. Faramir shuddered. He had been in Ithilien, and that was as close to Mordor as he had wanted to get.

He found himself walking beside Aragorn. The ranger caught his eye, and he smiled. Aragorn's conversation with him earlier had done him good. Yes, the Ring was a very powerful influence. It would try to bring him down.

But Faramir, as Aragorn had somehow known, did not want Power. He would help the Ringbearer to the end. He would enter the Nameless Land to have this evil destroyed. Somehow, he knew that Boromir would not have let this happen. His older brother was too fond of power and glory.

But Faramir was different. He would see this through, or die. He would not try to bring the Ring to Gondor. All that would do would be to destroy it.

Aragorn returned the smile. "You are stronger than most," he told him, "I trust you."

Faramir felt a sense of honor that the heir to the throne of Gondor would trust him. "Men have always been the weakest race, the most desiring of power," he said, "But what you said was true. I do not want this thing. That is why I came. If I had wanted it, I still know it is evil, and I would have stayed in Imladris to keep from the temptation."

"I realized that," Aragorn remarked, "I saw the conflict in your eyes during the council. It was already tempting you then, was it not?"

Faramir nodded, "Yes," he confessed. "It was." He sighed, "It tempts me, not only with power, but with something I have desired my whole life. But the suffering it would bring would outweigh the good it would do me."

Aragorn put a hand on his shoulder. "You are very wise," he said, "Wise enough to be the steward. It is a pity that your older brother would not be so wise in this matter."

Faramir looked down solemnly, "I knew that if it had anything to do with the One Ring, as Mithrandir has told me about it, he would be tempted beyond what he could bear. Boromir is quite drawn by power."

Aragorn nodded grimly in agreement. Then they walked on in silence for a while.

As they walked, Faramir thought about what would happen at home. Denethor would be furious, and perhaps Boromir as well. He may be executed if he ever returned. But this was truly not the reason that he chose to keep the Ring from Minas Tirith. He was no coward. But he did know what was right.

0o0o0

_UPDATED: 7/7/2014: Character and dialog changes to go with previous chapter, continuity errors fixed.  
><em>

_Again, I hope the update helped the story. _

_Novaer!_

_-Lúthien_


	5. Chapter 4: The Journey Begins

**Author's note: Thank you for returning! I hope last chapter was better than the one before. As always, I only own Feanor, who will not appear for a while, and Elvebrin. It is hard to imagine what Faramir would be like in the Fellowship, and I'm trying to make him as close to book-Faramir as possible. So, read, review, and enjoy!**

Chapter Four

The Journey Begins

Faramir awoke, stiff and cold, from sleeping on the ground all night. Winter was fast approaching. He stretched his aching limbs and stood. His watch had been in the beginning of the night, so he had had a fairly uninterrupted sleep, except for the howling of far-off wolves.

Now dawn had come, a pale light coming through the dense clouds. "Like snow clouds," Faramir mused. He had rarely seen snow in Gondor, and when it did snow, there was not enough to play in. He had a childish sense of delight that it might snow enough at last.

With a chuckle, he shook his head. He had been in far better spirits lately.

"Faramir!" Aragorn, who had had the morning watch, called. Faramir ran over to where he stood.

Aragorn whirled, drawing his sword. Faramir shot backwards in surprise, and Aragorn grinned. "Let's practice," he suggested.

Faramir laughed. "Alright," he replied, drawing Elvebrin. He looked at Aragorn's sword, and with a start of surprise, he saw that the shards of Narsil had been reforged. "Is that...?" he began to ask.

Aragorn nodded. "Yes. It is Anduril, flame of the west. Forged from the shards of Narsil," he explained.

Faramir ran a finger along the noble sword's flat edge. "Will you go to Gondor?" he asked, "Will you reclaim the throne?" He looked up at the ranger, questioningly.

Aragorn fixed him with a determined look. "If I survive this, and it is all done well, then, yes, I will," he replied.

Faramir sighed. "My father perhaps will not accept it well," he said, "He, like Boromir, is drawn by the allure of power. And for most of his life he has been the most powerful man in Gondor. It will be very hard for him to step down for a ranger of the north, Isildur's heir or not." He tilted his head sideways, "I simply do not understand."

Aragorn put a hand on his shoulder. "Enough talking," he said, "Your swordsmanship could use a little work." He quickly and suddenly disarmed Faramir, knocking Elvebrin to the ground.

Faramir opened his mouth in amused shock. "Aragorn!" he exclaimed, "That wasn't fair!" He leaned down to pick up Elvebrin, but the tip of Anduril was already at his throat.

"You must be ready for anything," Aragorn replied, his grey eyes twinkling with amusement, "Including hostile rangers such as myself. Especially if you are to be in the service of Denethor, son of Ecthelion." He laughed and drew Anduril back.

Faramir picked up his sword and stood. "Alright," he said, "I'm ready now."

"Are you?" And once again, the shining blade was at his chest. Aragorn was too fast for him. "See, you will come up against better swordfighters than yourself. Never underestimate the skills of your opponent."

Faramir looked at him, puzzled, for the ranger's eyes seemed to be looking behind him. Faramir turned to look just as the wind was knocked out of him and he found himself looking at the sky. "For the Shire!" a small, accented voice cried out. _Pippin's, _Faramir thought ruefully. And, sure enough, when he looked up, he saw Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck on top of him.

"Did we do it right, Strider?" asked Merry.

Aragorn nodded, laughing. Faramir was outraged. "Did you put them up to this?" he asked, looking at the Dunedan with exasperation.

"And..." Aragorn gasped, "Don't... ever... forget... about... surprise attacks." He laughed again.

Faramir couldn't help but smile. It had been a trick all along, since Aragorn invited him to train. Mithrandir watched, shaking his head, but still amused. Frodo and Samwise were also watching, but their minds seemed elsewhere.

Legolas was evidently keeping watch. Faramir hadn't exchanged two words with him since they set out. He couldn't shake the feeling that the elf prince was avoiding him.

But when he looked at Legolas, he also saw a dark patch, like a cloud, moving toward them. A moment later, Legolas' voice broke in. "Crebain from Dunland!" he shouted.

"Spies for Saruman," Mithrandir said, "Quickly! Hide!"

Faramir grabbed a random hobbit, Pippin, he thought, and ducked under a rock ledge, lying very still with his hand over Pippin's mouth to stop the halfling's protesting.

And it was not a moment too soon that they hid, for the great, dark birds swept over them and circled. Faramir shut his eyes, hoping that they would leave and not notice them.

It was a few moments before someone said, "They're gone." Faramir released Pippin and got up, a bit shaken.

"The southern pass is being watched," Mithrandir said, in a deep, thoughtful voice. "It is as I feared."

0o0o0

Faramir closed his eyes tightly against the blinding snow. The Fellowship was climbing the Pass of Caradhras. For the first bit, everything seemed to be alright, but then the blizzard hit. Now the snow was up to his knees. They were on a precarious path, only five feet between the wall and a sheer drop. Faramir could barely see to walk, and tested each step, hoping that it was not the edge. A rumbling sound made him open his eyes as much as possible. An avalanche just ahead sent buckets of snow rolling down the mountain. He heard chanting on the wind.

"There's a fell voice on the air!" one of the Fellowship, he could not tell who, cried above the roar of the snow.

"Saruman!" clearly Mithrandir's voice. At the moment the rumbling began again, and before he could tell exactly what it was, Faramir found himself encased in whiteness. Quickly he dug himself out. He had looked forward to snow, but not like this. He shielded his eyes with his hand, which gave him a bit more visibility. "Frodo! Mithrandir! Aragorn!" he shouted as loudly as he dared. He couldn't see much, but he saw a mop of curly dark hair poking above the snow, obviously Frodo's. He pushed through the now chest-high snow and pulled the Ringbearer out of the drifts.

Frodo looked at him with wide eyes. Faramir lifted the hobbit up and held him above the snow. "We can't go further!" he shouted to Mithrandir, who had resurfaced, along with the rest. "It will be the death of the hobbits!"

Gimli the dwarf said something to Mithrandir, and the wizard's gaze clouded. "Let the Ringbearer decide," he said at last, "Should we go through the mines of Moria, or go on?"

Frodo thought for a moment. "We'll go through the mines!" he shouted. Faramir thought about all he knew of Moria. The great Dwarven kingdom had long been desolate, home to goblins and trolls. The dwarves had delved too deeply, and in their greed released fire and shadow. He could not help shuddering as he thought.

Mithrandir nodded grimly, and the party turned back. By this time, it had grown dark, and they had no choice but to stop for the night. Faramir noticed how the hobbits were shivering, and decided he should make a fire. But, despite all of his efforts to do so, he only succeeded to make himself colder.

Suddenly there was a flash and a bang, and a tiny flame appeared, and went out. "It's no use," Mithrandir said, and Faramir looked up, seeing him holding his smoking staff. "We've made ourselves visible to any enemy around."

Faramir sighed. This would be one long, cold night.

0o0o0

The Fellowship survived the night. A few times, Faramir wasn't sure that he would; he'd never been so cold in his life. They'd made it down the mountain, and taken the path to the entrance of Moria. At last, they, came into view of a large lake. Faramir frowned. "This doesn't seem right," he muttered.

"No indeed," Mithrandir replied. They had grown close again since they'd set out. The doors of Moria were on the other side of the lake, though.

Faramir sighed as they began to walk again, skirting the edge of the lake on a small path, sometimes he slipped in the mud and a foot splashed into the lake, and bubbles came up from the water. It did not look at all like a normal lake, there was something about it...

Faramir shook his head, thinking that lack of sleep must be getting to him. At last they reached the mountainside. There was a smooth slab of rock, and there the company halted. "The door is made of Ithildin. It mirrors only starlight and moonlight," Mithrandir said.

Faramir nodded briefly, remembering the substance from his reading. Most dwarven doors were made of it. When the moon rose, the doors appeared, glistening with a white, gleaming light. "'The doors of Durin-Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter," Mithrandir read.

"What does that mean?" asked Merry. Faramir looked over at the hobbit, whose puzzled expression could be humorous.

"Quite simple," Mithrandir replied, "If you are a friend, speak the password, and the doors will open." He began to speak elvish spells, but the doors remained closed. It seemed as if it would be a while before they opened, and the company sat down on rocks for some much needed rest. Faramir sat down on the ground with his back against the mountainside, and sighed in relief. He hadn't had much rest since they'd left Imladris.

Nearly a half-hour later, he heard a ripple. He sat up, and saw the surface of the lake rippling. Frodo was in conversation with Mithrandir. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were resting, and the other hobbits were eating-typical of halflings, Faramir had discovered since his first meeting with them. It seemed as if he was the only one who saw the rippling. For some reason, it made him uneasy.

He heard Mithrandir reply to a question asked by Frodo. "Mellon.." he said, a sudden realization dawning on him. The doors creaked open. Faramir shot to his feet and hurried over. His excitement of the doors' opening was overshadowed with a foreboding of what lie before them.

But before they could examine the mines, a long, snakelike tentacle came out of the lake and pulled Frodo into the water. The hobbit let out a strangled cry, and Faramir and Aragorn leapt into the water, slashing at the creature as it threatened to pull Frodo into the abyss. Another tentacle slapped Faramir in the side and knocked him into the water. He slashed Elvebrin wildly, the world a blur of water and tentacles. At last, he felt Aragorn's hand on his arm, pulling him. "Frodo's loose. Come, hurry!" Faramir stumbled blindly after him.

"Into the cave!" Mithrandir called. The company rushed inside, and the creature slammed itself against the door in pursuit. Rocks crashed around them, and Faramir put his hands over his head, expecting at any moment to be crushed by them. At last the rumbling stopped, and he opened his eyes to darkness.

0o0o0

**So sorry for taking so long to update this! What do you think? My Faramir writer's muse seemed to be away for a little while. Who knows what he was doing... he's still barely here, which is why the second half of this chapter isn't that good. **

**The offer from last chapter still stands- Tell me your favorite LotR character in your review and you will get a free minature with care instructions and a surprise gift!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Luthien**


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